


i am not there (i do not sleep)

by blackkat



Series: Tumblr Drabbles [103]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Boruto Critical, Light Angst, M/M, anti-ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-04 20:59:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15849270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: “I’ll bring those flowers next time,” Iruka says. He always says it, but he never does. But—he was thinking of going to the shrine in the next few days, wasn’t he? He could light incense for Obito, offer up a prayer. A small thing, but—This world is so different, and so very much the same. Iruka’s been visiting the grave of the man responsible for his parents’ deaths for ten years now, has been watching classes of children graduate and go on, the shinobi world hardly even shifting, and he’s tired. Obito saved Naruto, and now Naruto never goes home to his family. Now Naruto smiles like it’s a lie, and Iruka doesn’t know what to do about it.





	i am not there (i do not sleep)

There are only ashes in the grave.

Iruka came to the funeral, mostly because Naruto went. Mostly because Naruto cried over this man, and no matter how freely or frequently Naruto cries, it still means something to Iruka. Kakashi was there, and Sakura. Sasuke, tired, grieving more over the fact the he really was the last member of his clan than the man they were laying to rest. There were a few of Kakashi’s Academy classmates, Gai and Genma and Raidō and Iwashi, but otherwise the graveyard was empty.

Iruka understood it then, the way he understands it now. Whatever he used to be, Uchiha Obito betrayed Konoha, killed one of its Hokage, caused the deaths of hundred of Konoha shinobi, brought a war down on their heads. He wasn’t a hero.

But he died to save Naruto and Kakashi, had a change of heart, a change of mind. He had faith in Naruto, in that last moment, and the change Naruto promised to bring to their world. Fought Madara, and then Kaguya, and was a good portion of the reason both were defeated. He wasn’t a villain, either.

Carefully, with a sigh, Iruka takes a seat on the damp grass by the inlaid stone, studying the neat characters, the bouquet of spider lilies Kakashi probably left. There's no body under the ground, nothing beyond a handful of ashes that Kakashi brought back with them, but Iruka still likes to think that it’s enough to tie Obito to this place, at least a little. To give him grounding. It isn't lighting a lantern for his soul, or preparing an altar for Obon, but despite everything Obito did, Iruka hopes his ghost can find a way back from that distant world he died in. Kaguya and Zetsu deserve to linger there; the man who saved Naruto doesn’t.

“I'm sorry I don’t have flowers this time,” he says to the stone, reaching out to touch the corner of it. “But I suppose Kakashi already took care of that.”

Kakashi’s spent far less time in front of the Memorial Stone recently, but Iruka’s never visited when the flowers here haven’t been fresh. He’s never seen Kakashi, though; that’s likely a sign that he isn't lingering, even if he comes with flowers, and Iruka is glad. Sakumo and Rin's graves sport flowers, too, as well as Minato and Kushina's, and Iruka is willing to call it an improvement, moving forward.

“I wanted to, but I got caught up at the Academy. I’ll bring flower next time,” he says, and maybe it’s a confession, because Obito set the Kyuubi on Konoha, got his parents killed. But Iruka came to terms with that when Naruto cried on his shoulder after the funeral, mourning all he lost, and was still able to come out of that night smiling. Iruka can accept Obito's change of heart, since it means Naruto is still alive. And Naruto, who lost just as much as Iruka, was able to forgive him.

Shinobi as a whole tend to live in the present, and not spend too much time looking back. Iruka tries to live that way.

There are lights coming on in the distance, flickering brilliance rising to fill the dusk as Konoha comes alive, and Iruka lets the light draw his eye, looks over out of the quiet graveyard and into the life still filling the village, and it makes him smile, even though it’s a little bittersweet. He’s…torn. It’s been ten years since the war’s end, and so much has changed, but—

Not the things he thought would change.

Swallowing, Iruka looks down at his hands, twists his fingers together in his lap. “I'm worried about Naruto,” he confesses, soft, so that even if anyone passes they won't overhear. “He spent the night in his office again. His son—he’s getting angrier, and I don’t know what to say to Naruto to fix it.”

Doesn’t know why he _has_ to—Naruto of all people finally getting a family should be cause for celebration. They should have to drag him away from his wife and children to do his work. But instead Iruka had found Naruto in his office every time he’s gone to deliver his reports, regardless of the day or the hour. Naruto alone, or Naruto with Shikamaru at his elbow, Naruto with Sasuke once, but never Naruto with Boruto. Never Naruto with Hinata. Never Naruto with Himawari. Just Naruto, tired and drawn and surrounded by stacks of paper that never seem to diminish.

It makes Iruka’s heart hurt to see him like this, honestly. Faded, worn, and sometimes he smiles but for Naruto smiles used to be the default. Iruka misses his grins, his happiness. Now he’s lucky to get a subdued smile when he arrives, a warm but restrained _Iruka-sensei_.

“He’s not the same person he used to be,” he whispers into the still air, and digs his fingertips into the headstone as he swallows hard. Naruto growing up is one thing; Naruto losing every trace of the bright boy who changed Iruka’s life is another thing entirely, and Iruka _hates_ it.

So much has changed, but in the framework, in the larger picture—everything is absolutely the same. None of Naruto's promises beyond his appointment as Hokage have been filled.

With a sigh, Iruka looks away, gets his feet under himself and rises. He feels older today than he normally does, stretched thin. His appointment as Headmaster isn't a new thing, but sometimes he still feels like there are a hundred thousand things he doesn’t know and needs to learn all at once.

“I don’t know if you’d like this world,” he tells Obito, or whatever fragment of his spirit might linger. “I don’t know if I like it, sometimes.”

Unfair, but true. Naruto had such big dreams, so many promises made to change the world, and maybe it’s only realistic that he’s turned away from those, but—

_I never go back on my word! That’s my nindo!_

Iruka sighs, rubbing the scar over his nose. Maybe that’s what bothers him the most. The changes aren’t just adulthood, aren’t just maturity. They're _differences_ , things that Naruto as a child or a teenager never would have accepted.

“He has so many promises he hasn’t kept,” Iruka says sadly, tracing his gaze over the kanji of Obito's name. “I guess I'm just afraid he’ll forget them.”

Naruto already seems to have forgotten he has a family, after all. Iruka’s concern is valid, understandable in light of that. Seems to have forgotten his smile, too—the only time Iruka has seen that same bright smile he remembers from before is in Sasuke's presence, and Sasuke only rarely visits, despite having a daughter and a wife of his own.

A curl of warm wind shivers through the cemetery, and Iruka sighs. He raises his face to the breeze that stirs the muggy air, and then out into the gathering darkness. The flowers on Obito's grave rustle, and a handful of petals come loose, whirling into the grass.

“I’ll bring those flowers next time,” Iruka says. He always says it, but he never does. But—he was thinking of going to the shrine in the next few days, wasn’t he? He could light incense for Obito, offer up a prayer. A small thing, but—

This world is so different, and so very much the same. Iruka’s been visiting the grave of the man responsible for his parents’ deaths for ten years now, has been watching classes of children graduate and go on, the shinobi world hardly even shifting, and he’s tired. Obito saved Naruto, and now Naruto never goes home to his family. Now Naruto smiles like it’s a lie, and Iruka doesn’t know what to do about it.

“I wonder if you could remind him of his promises,” he says, a little wistfully, and then closes his eyes and shakes his head. Most of the people Naruto made promises to are dead. That likely makes it easier to move past them, to keep forging ahead without looking back. But in this case, at least, Iruka can't help but think that remembering is even more important than going forward.

Iruka has lost his family, has lost friends to the shinobi world’s darkness. He’s lost dozens of students, bright lives snuffed out in an instant, and he’d thought, once, that Naruto would change that.

“I really will bring you flowers next time,” he says, and turns away, heading for the road with slow, weary steps.

(He doesn’t look around as he passes out of sight, doesn’t catch the shimmer, the twist in the air above the grave. Doesn’t see the curl of a sapling, rising from the soil in the twilight, growing, twisting, its branches spreading.

Reaching roots crack the stone of the grave, and the warm breeze twists across broken earth like the world itself is breathing.)


End file.
